


A Bloody Accident

by bookish_sister, orphan_account



Series: A Series Of Genderbent Events [3]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_sister/pseuds/bookish_sister, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In an alternate Snicketverse where all major characters are genderbent, how will Dulcinea (Duncan) Quagmire deal with the tribulations associated with young womanhood while evading prejudice and capture at Prufrock Prep? Dear reader, I advise you to look away now.





	A Bloody Accident

Caerleon Spats laid silently on his dormitory bed, contemplating another one of his infamous schemes. Ever since his admittance to Prufrock Preparatory School, he had made a point of manipulating his peers and the faculty to his own whims. Despite the increasingly outlandish acts of bullying he had partaken in recently, he remained beyond the reach of law. That is, until now.

“The orphans are always enjoyable targets,” he mused mischievously. “But most of the time, they’re just moping in their shack or running laps. How can you bully someone you hardly see in person?”

Intelligence was a trait not usually associated to Caerleon by his peers, nor was it usually bestowed upon him as a compliment by adults. However, he had an unparalleled knack for finding new ways of inducing misery in others. After a few minutes of brainstorming, he had perfected his devious plan. Quietly, he walked out of the dorm and towards the courtyard.

The Baudelaires and Quagmires had been forced to sleep in a small maintenance shed, colloquially known as The Orphan Shack by their detractors, for the past week. Its central location in the dormitory courtyard would have usually meant an abundance of witnesses to Caerleon’s actions, including his intended victims, but it was well past curfew. The majority of the students slept soundly in their beds, while the orphans were running laps under the supervision of Coach Genghis at the opposite end of the campus. Without much caution, the young boy opened the damp-riddled wooden door to the makeshift residence.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed. “It smells nasty in here. How do y’all live here?!”

The empty shack gave no response except for the slight swaying of door and the scurry of crabs. Caerleon turned on the solitary bare lightbulb before proceeding. The harsh yellow aura revealed the truly spartan nature of his surroundings. Several futons lay bunched together on the floor, while shelves on the walls were lined variously with cleaning chemicals, toolboxes and surplus school supplies. However, there was only one box of supplies that Mr. Spats was interested in procuring.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, roughly grabbing a nondescript pasteboard carton. On the side facing him, there was a small illustration of young woman reveling in joy and a caption that read, “Murray Co. Feminine Hygiene Products and You: For Comfort and Success!”

After yanking the lightswitch off, Caerleon stole into the night with his bounty.

It was nearly dawn as Dulcinea made her way back to the shack with her brother and friends. As she silently trudged away from the dusty, unkempt track, she was suddenly gripped by a new source of pain. She leaned against a rusty lamppost and rubbed her abdomen gingerly.

“What’s wrong, Dulcie?” Isaac asked worriedly. The male Quagmire was not accustomed to seeing either of his sisters in such visible pain; previous such instances usually indicated major emotional or physical trauma.

“Um, my stomach really hurts,” Dulcie replied, struggling to hold back tears. “And… down there…”

Vincent immediately understood. He had read a variety of health manuals and biomedical texts, and thus understood his friend’s symptoms as consistent with menstruation. This is a word which here means, “the monthly ejection of the uterine lining in the absence of a pregnancy.”

“Down there?” Klaudia asked, blushing from both physical exertion and the uncomfortable subject matter. Luckily, the youngest Baudelaire was spared any embarrassment, as he was sound asleep in his older sister’s arms following the night’s exercises.

“Do you remember if there were any cotton pads in the shack?” Vincent asked urgently. He supported Dulcie by wrapping an arm underneath her shoulders and encouraging her to walk.

“Yes, there was a whole box of them,” the middle Baudelaire replied. She distinctly remembered an unopened, unblemished carton labeled as “feminine hygiene products” on the rear shelf. While such eidetic memory was usually applied to research and literary endeavors, Klaudia had almost no mentally engaging material to digest since her arrival at the intellectually and aesthetically barren campus.

“Good,” Dulcie grunted as she limped forwards.

As soon as the children reached the shack, Vincent slammed the door open and rushed forwards, almost leaving Dulcie to fall on the dirt floor. After examining the shelves carefully, he exclaimed with a mixture of fright and disappointment.

“What’s the matter?” Klaudia asked.

“They’re not here,” Vincent sighed. “And there’s no reason for anyone to have misplaced them.”

Dulcie groaned loudly.

“We can get you something for the pain though,” Vincent reassured calmly. He retrieved a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid and topped with a cork stopper labeled “Diethyl Ether 10% by volume, 1000ml.”

“Thank you,” Dulcie said as she gulped down the contents of the bottle.

Klaudia laid Sully to rest on a futon with a pile of curtains and contemplated their situation for a few moments before speaking out loud.

“Could the janitor have taken the pads while we were gone?” she asked. “After all, this is a maintenance shed.”

Vincent shook his head glumly. “Never minding the fact that we haven’t seen any maintenance staff on campus so far, there’s no reason to suspect any adults would come in here regularly.”

“Uh, guys?” Dulcie called out. “I’m really going to need a few, sooner rather than later.”

She fidgeted and lifted the hem of her skirt, showing a bright red blotch on her underwear.

Klaudia shrieked with terror and nearly collapsed onto her futon.

“Oh dear,” Vincent remarked more calmly, attempting to console his sister. “There really is only one person I can think of that would steal our belongings like this, but it’s not going to be easy confronting him.”

“I don’t care who it is!” the middle Baudelaire shouted wildly. “Whoever did that is going to get shanked right back!”

“Nobody’s getting shanked!” the eldest declared. “She’s just on her period!”

Dulcie moaned as she lay flat on her back. “Please stop yelling. It’s giving me a headache, and I hate to see you two fight.”

Isaac agreed. “Dulcinea’s right. We need to work together. Who do you think took the pads, Vince?”

“Caerleon Spats, of course,” he said. “He’s done nothing but show utter contempt for us since we arrived. I couldn’t think of a better opportunity to make our lives more miserable, if I were in his shoes.”

“If we’re going to get them back, we can’t all confront him,” Isaac mused. “Somebody has to watch over Dulcie and Sully. Can you, Vince? Seeing as you seem to know the most about these things…”

“That seems reasonable,” said Vincent. “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

“Of course,” Isaac replied. “We’ll get those pads back in time.”

“Or die trying,” Klaudia mumbled fiercely.

The pair marched off in pursuit of Caerleon. At this hour, most students would be at breakfast, but they both knew that the bully had a unique habit of showing up “fashionably” late to perform his latest mumble rap operettas. Thus, the two headed towards the largely deserted dorms directly across the courtyard. Upon entering the boys’ hall, they found the offender sound asleep, snoring lightly and clutching his prize.

“We should get the box and get out of here,” Isaac whispered. “No unnecessary drama.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Klaudia chuckled. She promptly walked over to Caerleon and slapped him across the face as if she were killing a bothersome insect.

“Whuuuu??” the boy incoherently moaned as he awoke.

“That’s right, you just got slapped by a girl,” the Baudelaire proclaimed. “Now hand over the box before you sustain further injuries.”

“Fat chance, cakesniffer,” Caerleon mumbled. He stirred slightly, but was interrupted by Klaudia pinning his arms to the bed.

The boy whined angrily in protest, while Isaac struggled to hold back a laugh.

“Stop snickering and get over here!” Klaudia ordered.

“Alright, alright, calm your --” Isaac began, but stopped as his friend shot a look that could have cowed an enraged bull. “I mean, yeah. The box.”

The Quagmire stepped over and retrieved the box from the floor, after it had dropped from a struggling Caerleon. After ensuring that its contents were undamaged and in sufficient quantity, he signalled to Klaudia to effect their escape. As soon as they had sprinted out of the dormitory, Caerleon roared inhumanly as he chased them down.

“Couldn’t you have tied him down?” Isaac panted, taking care to not crush the fragile box.

“Sorry, bondage isn’t my kink,” Klaudia smirked. “Anyway, there wasn’t really anything to slow him down with.”

“Get back here, cakesniffers!” Caerleon screamed dementedly. “I was gonna burn down the library with that!!!”

“You can burn down this!” Isaac replied, directing a very rude gesture at the bully.

Caerleon shouted incoherently in frustration as he failed to keep up with the fit orphans. He eventually fell to the ground and began throwing an infantile tantrum just as students from breakfast were walking out of the hall.

“Should we head back towards the shack?” Isaac asked, panting from exhaustion. “Because he might follow us back.”

“I doubt it,” Klaudia speculated. “Just look at him.”

The children’s eyes focused on their pursuer’s last known location. Where there had previously been a screaming boy kicking the pavement, a large crowd and gathered in circular fashion, ostensibly to ogle at the their classmate’s antics.

“I guess we won’t have to worry about him for a while,” Isaac wondered.

“Yeah,” agreed Klaudia. “Now let’s get back to the Shack. I’m sure Dulcinea needs our delivery.”

The children circled back and soon arrived back at the ramshackle hut.

“We’re back!” Klaudia called out. She was answered by a profusely sweating Vincent.

“Hi, Dia,” he huffed. 

“Oh!” the younger Baudelaire exclaimed. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot the shack doesn’t have any ventilation, and well, it’s been a struggle.”

“Ah,” Isaac said. “Well, we have the pads. Should we help?”

Vincent shook his head. “You two and Sully should stay outside for a few minutes.” He gingerly handed a soundly asleep Sully to Klaudia while Isaac deposited the box into an oversize pocket on Vincent’s overalls. He promptly close the door and secured it shut with a makeshift latch.

“Do you think Dulcie will be okay?” Isaac asked nervously.

“Vince knows what he’s doing,” Klaudia said reassuredly. “He might be known for inventing, but he’s read about lots of things, including field medicine.”

The shack reverberated with Dulcie’s groans. In the din, only a few of her words were intelligible.

“I love you man, like a lo--” she slurred, drunk on ether. “But Olga! She better step up her game. She dunno who she’s messin wi--”

“Shh,” Vincent said quietly. “Can you spread your legs a bit please?”

“Mother said I really shouldn’t do this,” she whined. “But anything for a pretty young man like yourself.”

“What?” Vincent recoiled. “No, I just need to tape a pad to your underwear. Please tell me you have a fresh pair.”

The Quagmire shuffled awkwardly to beige travel trunk on the far end of her mattress and unlatched it. She produced a pair of freshly laundered coal-black lace panties from within.

“Okay,” Vincent said. “This might be more difficult because of the lace.”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Dulcie yelled, swaying as she stood naked from the waist down. “I thought these were pretty cool when I got them. I didn’t know my house would burn down a few weeks later, so I’d be stuck with them while a strange boy stares at me while I change into them!”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean that,” Vincent said softly, saddened by his friend’s remarks. “You can put these on as soon as I attach the pad.” 

After he had completed attaching the pad, he handed the resulting article of clothing to Dulcie, who eagerly stepped into them, tossing aside her blood-soaked underwear. 

“Do you feel better now?” Vincent asked.

“Better than a tween in tilted towers!”

The Baudelaire was about to ask what this metaphor meant, but then thought better of it.

“I’ll deal with your soiled underwear while you put your skirt on so the others can come back in,” he said instead.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay like this for a bit,” replied Dulcinea.

“But… won’t you be embarrassed?” Vincent asked, sealing the underwear in an opaque plastic bag.

“I used to lounge around at home in basketball shorts,” she explained. “I don’t have any with me right now, and the skirts are way too tight. Anyway, what’s there to be squeamish about? We’ve all changed into our nightwear in front of each other before.

“Okay, if you’re sure about it,” Vincent said, opening the door.

The children milling outside filed into discover Dulcie lying on her mattress as Vince sat on his. None were fazed by the Quagmire’s state of undress.

“Hullo,” greeted Klaudia.

“Hi,” Dulcinea said.

“What will we do now?” Isaac asked. “We’ve missed breakfast and now the first period.”

“I haven’t missed my period,” quipped Dulcie, wiggling her eyebrows.

“How about a song?” Vincent suggested. “It might take our mind off things before we get some rest.”

The others readily agreed. Music was not only a common pursuit amongst the Baudelaires and Quagmires alike, but had raised their spirits in desperate times. While not as urgent or grave, this situation, like many you may encounter in your own life, merited the tender touch of music.

“Do you all know We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn?” Klaudia asked.

They all nodded, and the middle Baudelaire led with a warbling alto. 

We'll meet again  
Don't know where  
Don't know when  
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day  
Keep smiling through  
Just like you always do  
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

Isaac, a tenor, took the next verse.

So will you please say hello  
To the folks that I know  
Tell them I won't be long  
They'll be happy to know  
That as you saw me go  
I was singing this song

The others now joined in, with Vincent’s soft bass and Dulcinea’s shrill soprano complementing the chorus of voices.

We'll meet again  
Don't know where  
Don't know when  
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day  
We'll meet again  
Don't know where  
Don't know when  
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day  
Keep smiling through  
Just like you always do  
'Til the blue skies  
Drive the dark clouds far away  
So will you please say hello  
To the folks that I know  
Tell them it won't be long  
They'll be happy to know  
That as you saw me go  
I was singin' this song

Dulcie softly concluded with the recapitulation.

We'll meet again  
Don't know where  
Don't know when  
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day


End file.
